


Éclat de Rire

by Yilena



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 02:38:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13603794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yilena/pseuds/Yilena
Summary: As Marinette gets to know an awkward waiter at her uncle's diner in the mornings, her favourite streamer tells a familiar tale about a girl with messy hair and a bright smile at night. AU.





	Éclat de Rire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [simply_zerah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simply_zerah/gifts).



> For _simply_zerah_. Happy birthday, Zerah! You've been such a great friend, so thank you for being a lovely person whenever we talk, putting up with my drunken ramblings, and helping me out all the time. I hope you enjoy this! I'm a sucker for name guessing stories, and I also wanted something to do with gaming. Originally, I'd planned to do a story where streamer Adrien lived above Marinette and constantly annoyed her with his loudness, but it worked a lot better in this plot. Teasers for upcoming stories can be found on my tumblr ( _xiueryn_ ).

_Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

When Marinette was sixteen, her uncle had fallen ill. With the consent of her parents, she'd moved into his home to help him for the times when the carers weren't there, managing school and taking care of him in his sickly state until she'd finished college.

He made a miraculous recovery, beating the odds, and she'd been the one that he thanked the most, even though she protested and said that anyone would've done it if they could. The answer wasn't good enough for him, however, as when a few years had passed and he'd opened a small diner in honour of his health after pursuing his dream, he insisted that she visit when she wasn't too busy to receive free food.

The first time, Marinette was almost dragged by her parents to visit. She was red-faced and embarrassed as one of the waiters brought over a cake that proclaimed it was her birthday—even though it _wasn't—_ and her uncle's laughter while she blew out the candles was one of her favourite memories.

After travelling away to her desired university, and only visiting home for holidays, she was relieved to move back to her childhood area when she'd graduated. It took a couple of months to snag a job in the industry that she wanted to do, but she managed to. The income was enough for her to move out of her parents' home to a quaint little apartment, and she slowly saved up to buy herself her own possessions.

A brand new laptop came after months of saving, and through that she was able to dabble in gaming in her free time. Eventually, she found streaming websites where she could watch others playing games, showing skill and techniques that she didn't quite have or didn't have the time to perfect, and it was from there that she started to regularly watch in the evening, or when she was cooking dinner. Sometimes, when the quietness of her apartment was jarring, she put the volume on low when she climbed into bed, watching until her eyes grew heavy.

It was after having a consistent schedule—which meant she was chosen to stay, instead of being temporary for a few weeks and seeing whether she could handle the stress of working in a fashion company—that she started to visit her uncle's diner every now and then in the mornings, only the days where she had a late night the day before. She didn't want to trouble him too much by visiting daily since he still refused to let her pay, so it was a compromise that he simply rolled his eyes to.

With a tired sigh, she sat down at one of the tables, taking out her mirror and trying to fix her dishevelled hair. There was an hour or so until she was needed in the office, and she knew that she needed to be presentable for it. The high-heeled shoes that she'd chosen to wear for a few weeks had caused pain in her feet, though she stuck with the tight and smart-looking clothing instead of opting for something more casual.

She'd already heard horror stories of a reception that had turned up in jeans once. The flat shoes were something she wouldn't be told off for, thankfully.

“Order?”

Startled, Marinette looked wide-eyed at the waiter. “I—sorry, I wasn't paying attention,” she said quickly, stuttering as she noticed the flat and irritated expression across his face. “I'll just, I'll—”

From the way he started scribbling in his notepad, she wondered what exactly he was writing.

His disgruntled eyes darted up to look at her. “The usual, right?”

Surprised, she simply nodded.

Usually, she was too distracted to pay attention to many of the employees, but she knew that the one that usually served her was female; either she was ill, or the male had taken over with his ever-present frown.

When he returned with her drink a few minutes later, the scowl was still there. It didn't improve when her food came (which really was what she frequently ordered, so she hoped that her uncle didn't have it taped onto the kitchen wall), and her soft murmur of thanks only received a nod in return. She wasn't one to complain about service, not when it was barely seven o'clock in the morning, but she wondered whether he was a new employee or not due to the obvious attitude.

She still left a tip, though.

The following week, she returned and beamed when he frowned beside her at the table. The negative expression was there the whole time, the words that he spoke coming out low and slowly, as though he was still tired.

It was only when she was given her food that he yawned into his hand, eyes appearing damp after it.

“Late night?” Marinette questioned, tucking her dark hair behind her ear.

It was only right to say that he glowered at her while making a non-committal noise.

The following week, another waitress took her order. The frowning male—who she didn't know the name of, as they didn't wear tags on their uniforms—was attending to another table across the café, busy and grunting at others instead of her. To her embarrassment, her uncle came out of the kitchen with her order, complete with a bright smile as he quickly swept her into a tight hug, urging her to visit more often.

She squeezed him back. “I'm coming whenever I can, Uncle.”

“Make sure to send your parents my love,” he replied, reaching up and ruffling the hair that she'd already attempted to tame that morning, ruining the effect that her professional-looking clothing had. “See you later, kid.”

With the occasional late night at work, it meant that she wasn't able to spend her time playing games often. So, while resorting to watching streams when she was too exhausted to actually do it herself, she found a user that she enjoyed watching by the name of Félix. It was either the sharp retorts that he said to himself—never to the team, as countless players had been banned for badmouthing others as it was—or the ridiculous jokes in the middle of fights that made her like him.

He was constantly positive, even when other players were badmouthing him. It was a preference of his not to have the camera on, only addressing the chat by speaking, rather than typing like some streamers did. His viewers were steadily increasing as the game grew more popular, and he gained exposure by silly clips of his antics garnering attention due to his bright personality.

The grumpy-looking male continued to serve her every few weeks at the diner. He was perpetually frowning, yawning into his hand at the most inappropriate moments, and she had to wonder how he managed to hold his job when he had to interrupt himself while talking to customers just yawn, then look at them with damp eyes as he gruffly apologised for the delay.

He didn't even ask for her order when he wandered to her table; instead, he raised his eyebrows while waiting for her response of what drink she wanted for that day.

Her lips twitched from trying not to laugh. “Surprise me, Gilles.”

Wordlessly, he scribbled something down on his notepad before turning on his heel and disappearing in the kitchen. With his endless tiredness and lack of wanting to communicate, Marinette had decided it would be fun to guess his name after he'd flatly refused to tell her in the past.

Her uncle had positively laughed when he found out what she was doing, and it turned out that later in the afternoon, after the sleepiness had waned, the waiter was a more positive person than when he first woken up—something she'd yet to see, as she only visited in the mornings. It had been a couple of weeks of her attempting to guess, having one-sided conversations whenever he came to her table, and she'd once offered him her drink to try and wake him up, only to receive a sleepy-looking glare in reply.

Marinette grinned as the plate was settled down in front of her. “Thank you—”

“Not my name,” he interrupted, reaching up to push his blond-coloured hair out of his eyes. And with that said, he turned on his heel and departed, clearly not amused by her muffled laughter.

The next time they saw each other, she was regretfully hungover. Her friends had managed to talk her into drinking despite the fact that she had to work the following day, and considering that she'd grown annoyed with a co-worker, she'd agreed to it.

She returned his staring glare with one of her own.

“No names today?” the blond-haired male enquired as he set the plate down, raising his eyebrows slightly.

Wrinkling her nose in disapproval, Marinette replied, “Not today, Lionel.”

“You're the worst customer I've ever had,” he proclaimed flatly, much more talkative than he'd ever been to her before.

Any other day she would've been overjoyed with the sudden conversation, but all she wanted to do at that moment was eat and crawl back into bed instead of going to work. Instead, she settled with a half-hearted noise of confirmation and picked up her cutlery, only looking back up to stare at his retreating form when she heard what sounded like a laugh.

“Well, I'll be damned,” she muttered. “He's capable of laughter.”

-x-

There were a few rare days where she was able to watch Félix live. It wasn't often—he usually streamed when she wanted to sleep, so she watched the past broadcasts instead—but on the weekends, she had the time to. Marinette tucked a blanket around herself to keep warm in the chilly winter weather, knowing that the heating in her apartment was almost non-existent, and had the stream of full on her laptop as she used her cell phone to browse the internet.

Félix, with his infectious laughter and ridiculous noises, was interrupted partway through by his cat making high-pitched noises in the background. The microphone had picked it up, and as it grew louder and more needy, Félix kept talking back in an attempt to soothe the feline. He had pictures of him and his black cat, Plagg, on his social media accounts, though he didn't show his face often. The special emotes that his account was allowed to use were different drawings of Plagg that artists had made for him specifically, so whenever the cat appeared, the chat would start to spam them.

“ _Plagg_!” he cried as loud noises sounded, causing her to jump in surprise from the volume of them. “Oh, _no_.”

His glass had been knocked off the desk when Plagg had leapt onto it.

It became one of his most popular clips in a few hours due to the groans and him scolding his cat.

Marinette sent it to her friends to laugh about it with them, though they weren't into the game that was shown. Through her teenage years, she'd often play with her friends after her homework was out of the way, but they hadn't settled down to do that since university. There either wasn't much time, or their interests were different. She wasn't sour about that; not really when she was able to play with strangers online easily, or watch someone else so she didn't have to deal with the hassle.

When she met up with her friends, it was for drinking while watching bad films, getting together in groups (and exclaiming that they needed to meet more often and never commit to it), or outings that ate at her bank account more than they should've. There were only a few that she'd be comfortable just lounging around her apartment with, it just happened that her best friend since she was thirteen, Alya, was living a few hours away for the time being for a job opportunity.

So, it was by herself that she visited her uncle's diner on one of her days off, not surprised to see more customers in there than was usual in the early mornings. She knew that he was successful due to the placement of it, along with his recipes, but it was still nice to see.

With a seat by the window, Marinette fiddled with her cell phone, sending a few messages to her friends while waiting. There wasn't much she had planned for that day, and she wasn't going to complain about service when she'd only been there for a few minutes, unlike one of the grumbling customers nearby.

“Hello, are you ready to order?”

“Yes, I'll—” Marinette cut herself off when she looked to see that the waiter that had approached her was the blond-haired male as usual, except that there was something different with him. “You're not scowling,” she blurted from surprise.

It was fascinating to watch as he grimaced, a dusting of colour appearing along the top of his cheeks. “Oh, you need a few minutes?” he responded loudly. “I'll be back soon, then.”

And with that said, he really did hastily walk away in another direction, leaving her to laugh to herself. Through those few minutes—where she could've called over someone else to take her order, but didn't—Marinette continued to search on her cell phone before he wandered back over, intentionally keeping her eyes on the device as he came to stand beside her table.

“Ready to order now?” he questioned.

Marinette pointed to the different items on the menu, which were definitely not her usual, as she answered, “Yes, Victor.”

“That's really not my name, you know,” the blond continued, sounding at least slightly amused as he scribbled it down on his notepad. There was more emotion to his voice than the usual tiredness, though she supposed that was due to him not glaring at everything in his path. “You could just ask like any other normal person.”

She grinned. “You're very well-spoken when it's not in the morning.”

His eyes didn't flicker up from where he was writing. “I feel like we're not close enough for you to tease me like this.”

“I can't help that I'm terribly fond of your death stare over my breakfast food,” Marinette replied, smile reaching her eyes as he reached up to fiddle with his hair briefly. “I'll stop harassing you now, so you can do your job.”

With a nod, he walked back into the kitchens. Marinette's uncle was the one that came out with her food, sliding into the seat across from her to make conversation as she ate. It was nice to see him, as always, and seeing that he was healthy and happy was a bonus. The diner was his pride and joy, even though he wasn't the main chef; originally, he'd planned to find someone else to open it up with so he wouldn't have to act as the owner all of the time, but no one close to him had wanted to pursue it.

The following week, he was back to the half-lidded eyes from tiredness—that looked like glaring a lot—and barely speaking words as he stopped by her table.

Her lips twitched from trying not to laugh. “How long does it take for you to be functional?”

“A while,” he muttered, his mouth curling into a frown.

“It's a lot more charming than it should be,” she mused before reciting her usual order, a smile appearing as he simply walked away with that said. When he came back, she cleared her throat and awkwardly offered, “I'm Marinette, by the way.”

He looked at her incredulously. “I know.”

Right, of course he did. She was sure that all of the employees knew her face due to the whole free meals business, even though a few had asked to see identification in the first place. The rest of the conversation was ruined, and since she didn't have to pay the bill, she only left a tip behind beside her plate.

Félix's consistent time for streaming was in the evening until a few hours after midnight; basically, when she was winding down after work and before she got into bed. She missed a lot of gameplay due to that, but she still watched back broadcasts when she had the free time.

While watching him on her next day off, he started answering questions from the chat—specifically, why his streaming times were so late.

“I have another job,” he answered honestly, swearing as his character almost died. “I'm grateful for all the donations and support, but I've only become popular recently. I couldn't rely on this to live right from the beginning.”

It was sense, of course. The response only caused more donations to flood in, along with various messages that were filled with the Plagg-themed emotes, and Marinette had to laugh as he started to come overwhelmed, audibly stuttering as he tried to read out all the names and thank everyone individually.

From there on, Félix started to answer questions about his other job when he started streaming each day. He'd either complain that he was tired, or if he spilled something on his outfit, and sometimes remark about the strangest customers that walked into the store. Although he didn't specify what it was, the way he spoke and the little comments made a lot of people jump to conclusions, which caused him to cackle and be amused when he rejected them.

So far, a lot of them had been shot down. Marinette, herself, was quite curious about it, only because of how often it was brought up during his streams. Félix had to resort to putting text at the bottom of his screen, a simple sentence that he wasn't answering any job questions in the foreseeable future for the rest of that night's durations.

Her planned lazy day was ruined when her parents called. An hour or so later, Marinette found herself standing outside her uncle's diner with a package for him, a present that had came from her grandmother abroad (apparently, it was easier to send the presents in bulk and then split them up with her help delivering them).

It was past midday, but the blond-haired male was the one that looked up first to see who caused the bell above the door to chime.

She raised her free hand up in greeting. “Hey, Dimitri.”

He looked more flustered than he did in the morning. Marinette watched as he fiddled with his half-apron that he had wrapped around his waist, but not pulling out the little notepad like he usually did.

“I'm not here to torture you today, sadly.” She grinned, stepping inside and zipping her jacket up further. “Is my uncle in the back?”

Rather than glare at her as he usually did when she asked, the blond instead stumbled over his words as he said, “I—yeah, he is.”

With a grin, the dark-haired female navigated her way through the diner as she replied, “Great, thank you!”

The gift was dropped off, hugs were exchanged, and she stayed for a bit to help her uncle organise the papers that were scattered around his office. Afterwards, she purposely waved at her favourite waiter on her way out, surprised to see his eyes widen as he quickly looked away. It was refreshingly different to the disgruntled demeanour that she'd come to know in the mornings, and it made her wonder whether she was just like that in the early hours of her job.

From the way that she didn't get complaints when she answered the phone, she assumed not. The compliments from the higher-ups proved that she was doing her job well, and she could only hope that she'd be considered for a promotion any time in the future. She didn't have her heart set on being a receptionist for life, even though she sometimes spied famous designers and models walking through the doors into the building.

“It's not like I _hate_ my job,” Félix pointed out, the sound of his keyboard being pressed filling any silence that there could've been, along with his mouse. “There's some perks to it, despite how early I have to get up—that's all I'm going to say about it today, by the way. I'm putting the overlay up so everyone knows.”

He was handling the sudden influx of popularity well. There had been a few people attempting to find out where he lived by looking through his social media accounts, but he laughed and said he wasn't silly enough not to have a personable account separate, too.

When someone kept linking an account of someone called Félix in the chat, he snorted. “You don't think this is my real name, do you?”

She had to laugh at that.

There were those that spammed that they wanted to see his face while he was playing, but he always brushed them off. “I'm not comfortable with that,” he announced. “You guys already get to see Plagg in all his glory, and I pale in comparison to him, honestly. There's no match there whatsoever.”

Any hopes she'd had of owning a pet after moving out into her own place had been ruined when the only apartment that she could afford didn't allow them. Her parents were proud owners of a _pâtisserie in the city, which meant for healthy and safety reasons, she hadn't been allowed a pet that shed—growing up with fish hadn't been too exciting, not when her class-mates cooed and compared their furred companions beside her._

It was amusing to hear about Plagg's antics because of that. Her friends mentioned their pets, of course, but Plagg was a reoccuring topic, one that came out without a fail every few minutes. When regular viewers would join the stream, they'd question how the cat was, rather than asking Félix about his day—something that the male lamented about each time, claiming that they cared more about his cat than him.

Of course, in response to that, a lot of people asked to see his face to know whether they _should_ care.

“That's just rude.” He sniffed. “Judge me for my gaming skills, not whether I can seduce someone with just a look.”

-x-

The first time she saw the waiter with the ever-changing name outside of the diner, they'd known each other for about five months. Marinette had been browsing the aisles of the supermarket, basket clutched in her hands, and she was searching for a specific product when she walked past someone when she was taken aback, turning around quickly to get a better look at them.

“It _is_ you,” she exclaimed, coming to stand beside him from where he was reading a label in his hands.

The blond-haired male jumped, turning to look at her with wide green-coloured eyes. The casual clothing suited him a lot more than the shirt and black trousers combination of a uniform, and as they stood beside each other, she realised that she only came up to his shoulders.

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Okay, you don't seem this small when I'm sitting down.”

He blinked. “You've walked past me a lot of times, too.”

“Well, I've never stood beside you,” she countered easily, taking in the lack of tired-looking eyes that were always there in the morning. “It's...” Marinette trailed off, taking out her cell phone with her free hand to check the time. “Two o'clock and you're fully awake.”

His lips twitched. “Yes, that's usually a good time to be up.”

The sense of humour was back, too, it seemed. “As much as I like actually speaking to you, I can't come for breakfast any later than I already do. I'm stuck with your grumpy personality, unfortunately.”

When he smiled—a rare feat, one that she hadn't seem more than the subtle curling of the corner of his lips—dimples appeared on his cheeks, completely lighting up his expression. It was hard to tell that the scowling tired-eyed waiter from the diner was the same male standing before her, but she wasn't complaining. In the months, she'd actually grown quite fond of their odd interactions, even more so when he flatly rejected the chosen names she might've prepared beforehand.

“Feel like telling me your name since you're nice today?” she questioned, smiling right back at him.

His turned lopsided as he collected a product from the shelf, putting it in his own basket. “Where's the fun in that?”

Marinette laughed. “I wasn't aware that you felt any sort of positive emotion for me.”

“You're my worst customer, so you deserve to be remembered,” the blond replied, raising his eyebrows as he looked at her. “Are you going to stand here and bother me while I'm shopping, too?”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I'll leave you to it, then, Yannic.”

As she was walking away, he called out with a loud voice, “ _Not_ my name!”

When she arrived at the diner later that week, he was surly and back to the short sentences. Marinette simply grinned in response to his flat stares and looks, not at all put off by them. The dimpled smile was missing, sure, but it was clear that he wasn't actually annoyed by her; if he was, he could've pawned her off on his co-worker months ago, rather than coming back to serve her each time. There had to have been some kind of begrudging like there, as she hadn't overstepped any boundaries and made him uncomfortable.

It seemed that Félix was in much the same position, too.

“There's this one customer that comes in every now and then,” he started, the noises of his keyboard and mouse loud once again. “They're—okay, it's a girl. I'll just call her Bridgette for now, yes? She's well known at my job; meaning, we're told not to piss her off on the threat of being fired. Boss has a super soft spot for her.”

There chatter turned to different topics for a bit while he tried to win his match, and while he was queueing for another, the chat reminded him of the topic of Bridgette by causing him to splutter with laughter.

“Oh, Bridgette's not fucking the boss, don't worry,” he said through his laughter, voice coming out higher-pitched than usual due to it. “She's a family member of his. She just—she comes in with this messy hair and this constant smile as she buys the same thing every time. I want to hate her for how positive she seems so early on.”

The use of cat emotes didn't decrease with the topic change.

Félix chortled. “There's no dark turn for this story to take, really. You guys asked me who my favourite customer is, and I replied. That's all there is to it.”

She wondered whether her usual waiter thought that way, too.

The next time she went into the diner, she tried not to smile too much. He looked at her with the half-lidded gaze she was used to, jotting down the order after barely talking, and it was only after he started to walk away that she covered her mouth to hide her laughter.

“Hello,” she started pleasantly when the drink had been placed in front of her. “I don't know how to tell you this, Jean-Philippe, but you've got something on your shirt.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

Grinning sheepishly despite her initial intention, Marinette pointed out, “There's something—I think it's fur, actually—on the back of your shirt.”

It stood out against the white of the button-up shirt. When he tried to peer over his shoulder to see his back, she tried to stifle her laughter at the frustrated expression that came across his face. Taking pity on him, she retrieved her cell phone and took a picture of his back, offering the device out to him politely.

“Oh,” was all he said, lips curling into the familiar frown.

“You're welcome,” she sang.

He looked pained as he replied, “Thank you.”

When he returned with her food in hand, he'd changed into another shirt. The only problem with it was that it was far too big for him, so the sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and it was baggy around the chest despite the fact it was tucked into his trousers and the half-apron was tied around his waist. Marinette didn't comment on the change, but she could've sworn that there was redness on the top of his ears where it had been pale before.

She hadn't expected any conversation, honestly.

The blond-haired male placed the plate in front of her and curtly said, “Go on a date with me.”

It really didn't sound like a question.

Marinette faltered, mug in her hands as she stared at him in surprise. “I—what?” she blurted dumbly, caught off guard.

The blush that had appeared on his ears wasn't imagined; it had spread to his cheeks, bringing out the colour of his tired-looking eyes in the process.

“I thought you didn't even like me,” Marinette pointed out when it was clear that he wasn't going to speak up again. He was standing there beside her table, shifting the weight he was putting on his feet as he lingered. The confusion was clear in her voice, the inquisitive tone continuing as she murmured, “I've practically been harassing you for months, and now you're asking me out?”

Naturally, he replied simply with, “Yes.”

Well, the feeling she had for him weren't negative; he was amusing in his own way, surprisingly nicer when he'd fully woken up, and there wasn't much of a downside to accepting it. He was attractive to look at, too, which was an added bonus.

It didn't take her long to reply slowly, “Okay, I'll go on a date with you.”

When he turned around and walked away without discussing anything further—not even exchanging numbers—she didn't know whether to take him seriously. He didn't stop to ask whether the meal was okay (well, he'd never done that in the first place), and she didn't see him during the time she was eating, so she just left a tip before she left.

His sense of humour appeared every so often, but it couldn't have been bad enough to play that kind of joke on her.

She considered going to the diner earlier than usual to talk to him, but it felt too awkward to do that. The free meals every now and then were already too much, even if she left a large tip to make up for the money that she wasn't paying.

The following week, she walked through the front door, the chiming of the bell announcing her arrival. She yawned into her hand before peering up to see who was working that day, and she blinked in surprised as she saw a familiar blond mop of hair walking swiftly out through the door that was for employees only.

Well, that was new.

Another waitress took her order and delivered everything, and she only saw him emerge from the break-room after she'd walked to the door and looked over her shoulder one last time. Marinette frowned, watching as his gaze flickered to hers before looking away quickly.

If he was going to play with her feelings and have mood swings more than the usual sleepiness caused, then he wasn't worth her time. When she told Alya the tale of the stranger waiter over the phone, her friend agreed, too. Then came the patented speech of insisting that Marinette deserved someone that treated her right, someone to actually love her, which came from the heart, rather than just nagging.

She completely agreed, of course, but dating wasn't as easy as it sounded. Marinette's hadn't gotten her hopes up when he'd asked her out; she'd been surprised and thought about it for a few seconds, and that hadn't been enough to have large expectations.

She just hadn't expected him to walk away immediately, that was all.

As always, she scrolled through her phone as her laptop screen was filled with Félix's stream on her day off. She was relaxing in her pyjamas still, hoping that she wouldn't be called away by either being invited by friends, or her parents, to spend time together. She'd woken up almost late for work the previous day, making it so she couldn't visit the diner due to her forgetfulness to set an alarm.

“Oh, you just _have_ to ask how Bridgette is, don't you?” Félix grumbled, muttering beneath his breath as the comments started to flood in asking about more than just his cat. “I haven't seen her this week—I think I scared her away, actually.”

A curse escaped him as manoeuvred his character, easily pulling off a technique that Marinette would've failed instantly. As much as she liked the game, it seemed to be a lot better to play it with others; she'd encountered bad attitudes a few weeks ago, and hadn't found the desire to try again thus far.

He snorted at some of the suggestions for what he did. “No, I didn't drop anything on her. I'm pretty sure my boss would be glaring at me for all eternity if I did that—he seriously adores her, it's insane.”

It sounded like there was a good relationship in their family, something that a lot of the chat was taking for granted by calling her spoiled. Félix hadn't outright said that she was annoying or rude, or anything of the sort, yet people were jumping to conclusions.

One of them caused him to choke from laughter. “She's not _twelve_ , fucking hell, guys. Bridgette's at least twenty, I'm pretty sure. I heard about her attending university once before, but I don't know if she's still there.”

The stream the next day was full of laughter and embarrassed groans as some had taken to drawing his profile picture—a person with a blank face, short blond hair, and a black cat on top of his head—next to another faceless person who they'd labelled as Bridgette, a figure that always had messy hair, of various different colours, as he'd described the first time. They were quick, non-detailed due to the lack of descriptions, but the clothing had awkward things written across them that kept making Félix laugh despite his protests that they were inappropriate.

“You can't just ship me with Bridgette,” he muttered, exasperated. “I haven't even said what she looks like—and no, I'm _not_ saying whether she's hot or not.”

That didn't seem to stop people. One of the moderators of the chat added in a command that viewers could type in that would explain the Bridgette situation; he also had some for Plagg, the characters he preferred to play in the game, and the equipment he used to stream.

“Just because she's my favourite customer doesn't mean she's hot, you idiots,” he defended himself, fondness seeping into his tone as he scolded them. “Besides, I've already said that she's avoiding me now.”

She wondered whether the waiter would continue to ignore her if she went back to the diner. The awkwardness wasn't enough to make her stay away from it, after all, not when her uncle was still the owner and insisted that she visit every now and then.

It was on her next day off that she stepped through the door with the bell chiming above her, intentionally coming in around midday, rather than the initial opening hours. She was greeted by her name by one of the other waiters, one that she'd never actually been served by but knew from the times that they'd passed by each other—she was starting to definitely suspect that her uncle had a picture of her somewhere, but hadn't seen it in his office.

After sitting down at an available table, she raised her eyebrows at the blond-haired male that appeared beside her to take her order. “Fancy seeing you here, Pierre.”

As if on command, redness appeared on his cheeks as he kept his gaze on the notepad instead of her. “Hello,” he greeted.

“I'm surprised you're not running into the other room to avoid me,” Marinette continued, no resentment leaking into her tone. She wasn't too offended by it, but it had still been rude. “Or are you going to walk away from me in the middle of our conversation again?”

He grimaced. “I'm sorry.”

“Are you?” she enquired, resting her elbows on the table. “If you just said you'd changed your mind about wanting to go on a date with me, I wouldn't have been upset.”

“That's not it,” he started, reaching up to touch his hair with the hand he was holding the pen in, looking startled as the pen hit his head. Dropping his arm back down with an embarrassed shift of his feet—a stark difference to his deadpan and tired gaze just after dawn—he quietly added on, “I just—I panicked.”

She blinked. “Right.”

The top of his ears had reddened. From the way he was standing there, obviously waiting for her to berate him or proclaim that he'd hurt her feelings, it was clear that he was expecting the worst to come of the situation. She wondered whether he thought she was avoiding him the previous week, thinking that it his fault that his boss' niece was no longer coming.

Or, perhaps, he didn't think about her at all. Yet, seeing him fiddling with his pen in a nervous way, she hoped that it was her first guess.

“I'm finding it hard to understand why you even asked me out at all,” she mused, tucking some stray hairs behind her ear. “I've done nothing but annoy you whenever we speak.”

He shook his head. “You don't annoy me.”

“Oh.” She raised her eyebrows. “That's news to me, then. Is this an opposites attract thing? Because I don't think we'd get on well when you're on a lot of caffeine, or even a sugar rush.”

“That's not—” Shaking his head, the blond-haired male let out a frustrated breath. “I know I'm a shitty person in the mornings, okay? I've had a lot of people complain about it, but not _you_.”

That was true, as she found it more amusing to see him frown and tiredly glare at her instead. “And based on that, you decided you'd like to wake up beside me? It's a bit of a leap from liking you as a waiter.”

As his eyes widened, she watched as his expression morphed into one of mortification. “ _No_ ,” he spluttered, drawing attention of the other customers. Realising that he was being too loud, he cleared his throat before saying, “I just wanted to know whether you were interested?”

The blush really stood out against his pale skin.

“I was,” Marinette answered slowly, “I still am.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Really?”

“As long as you don't run away from me again, yes,” she confirmed, smile reaching her blue-coloured eyes. “You're pretty cute, even though I don't know your name.”

“It's—”

Quickly holding up her hands in protest, Marinette exclaimed, “Don't tell me! That's going to ruin all of my fun.”

Incredulous, he asked, “You're going to go on a date with me even though you don't know my name?”

“Well, to be fair, you've never even called me my name,” she pointed out with a laugh. “I'm quite invested in this now. I feel like I'm going to win a prize if I guess right someday.”

The smile he gave her in return showed her his rarely seen dimples. “I should get back to work.”

When he came back twice with her drink and food, he didn't stick around and talk. Marinette wondered whether he'd remembered that they needed to arrange a time and date at all, and decided to make it easier by writing her number down on a napkin. It was only as she was retrieving the money for the tip that he came to stand beside her.

She grinned, placing it directly into his hand. “There you go. I'm finally giving it to you personally.”

After staring at the amount for a moment, the blond placed it into his half-apron's pocket as he questioned, “Why is it always so much? Even when it's not for me, I mean.”

“Because I feel bad about the whole free meals thing,” she answered easily, shrugging her shoulders slightly. “It's the least I can do—wait, you didn't think I was just giving a large amount to you, did you?”

From the way he averted his eyes, it seemed so.

Marinette smothered her laughter by putting a hand over her mouth. “Oh, that's definitely cute,” she murmured, got out of her seat to stand up. Retrieving the folded napkin on the table, she slid it over to in front of him. “This is my number, if you're still interested in a date; one in the evening or afternoon would be preferable.”

The napkin was also put into his half-apron, none of the items going into his uniform pockets. “Are you really expecting me to message you without telling you my name?”

Her smile was lopsided as pointed out, “Well, you could always call instead.”

“I don't think my voice is very recognisable,” the blond replied, eyebrows furrowed.

“We'll see about that.”

-x-

Waiter Boy, as she'd started to refer to him as whenever she spoke to Alya about it (who was fully supporting the decision to go on a date with him, even though she wanted to laugh if it ended in a disaster), messaged her the same evening that she'd given him her number. Rather than calling, they continued to message each other every few hours in the morning, though it seemed that he was free from his job in the afternoon onwards. When Marinette finished and told him so, he always replied within a few minutes.

The plus side of not talking to each other meant that they didn't fumble or become embarrassed easily. Even in the mornings, his messages didn't come across grumpy or as straight forward as he was in person, which had been a surprise. It seemed he was more comfortable typing, too, as he found it easier to access his sense of humour and make her laugh whenever she was on her way to work, or taking a break and looking at her phone.

It started off with messages, then evolved into the two of them sending links to silly pictures that they'd found throughout the week, all while arranging to meet up the coming weekend for dinner somewhere. After asking whether there was something specific the two of them wanted to do, they'd decided to go with simple.

He had a second job of some sort, as he was always busy around the time she usually had dinner. Of course, he felt the need to remind her daily, telling her that he'd reply the next day, so he wouldn't wake her up (which was surprisingly sweet that he even thought of that at all).

Marinette was surprised to see that Félix was doing a giveaway that evening. She'd planned to watch a past broadcast, but the title he had caught her attention. There was a time limit of half an hour to type a specific word into the chat to be entered, and she quickly found out that the prize was a chance to be on a team with him for a few matches.

There was only five minutes left when she entered.

Félix whistled, impressed as he said aloud the numbers that entered in the end. The winner would be randomly selected after he'd finishing talking, saying that he'd need to have their account name and know whether they had a working microphone or not.

“Ignore Plagg, he's just whining because his bowl's empty,” he said with a laugh. “Time for the moment of truth, guys. Remember, if you're selected but aren't following me, I'm rolling again.”

With his screen showing the list of names, along with the chat that was moving at a rapid pace, she honestly didn't think much of it. It would be amusing to see him playing with a viewer, of course, and it would mean a lot more interaction than he usually did; Félix didn't screech at his team often, instead muting his microphone most of the time, so only the stream could hear him.

Of course, the one selected wasn't following him whatsoever.

“You're an idiot,” he remarked dryly, the sound of his mouse audible as he pressed the button to generate a random name of the list again.

She didn't know whether to choke or not when her name was the one displayed.

It took a few minutes for her to respond to the message in private with her account name and number. She hadn't actually sat down and played for a few weeks, but she still had her microphone and mouse set out on the desk in her room.

She relocated into her bedroom while he hid her responses from the stream, the screen only showing the loading screen of the game as he waited.

It was silly, but she felt nervous about it. It wasn't often that she played with others that she knew, let alone watched almost daily. Marinette fiddled with her hands as the programs started up, clicking on her newly plugged in mouse when it had loaded.

The first thing Félix said when she joined his voice chat was, “Hey, I thought you weren't going to show.”

Unlike him, where she could hear every sound as he didn't mute himself often, Marinette had to press and hold a button for her microphone to pick up her voice. “Sorry,” she quietly replied. “I had to find my mouse.”

She was glad that the stream was turned off, along with his chat, so she wasn't able to see the reaction she received. Her laptop wasn't good enough to run both, and she only had one screen as it was.

“Mari, right?”

“Yes,” Marinette confirmed, not sure whether to regret picking a username so close to her real name. “Is my voice okay? I haven't checked the settings yet.”

As she accepted the request in game to be his friend—only for the short time they played, as she was sure he cleared his friends list often—Félix assured her, “It sounds fine, don't worry. I'd suggest not looking at chat for a while, though.”

She snorted. “I've already closed it. My laptop can't handle both, anyway.”

“Laptop?” he echoed, the pity clear in his voice. “Well, no wonder you want me to carry you.”

“Not if you're going to be a dick about it,” she retorted, not feeling as awkward as she thought she would be.

There wasn't an overwhelming feeling or need to impress him, not when she knew that there wouldn't be a repeat in the future. She was determined just to have fun and enjoy herself as much as she could, as the upcoming games had a higher chance of winning than she usually did.

His laughter was loud and abrupt. “All right, my bad. I was just feeling sorry for you, but, apparently, you don't need it.”

Marinette laughed right back at him, leaving that as her only response for the time being.

With Félix talking to her, it was a bit weird. The comments that he usually directed at the chat were addressed to her instead, and he shouted out her name when he died or was in danger a lot. He tried to coach her on what to do, how to use some abilities to her advantage, and from the constant conversation, she loosened up from being feeling awkward by the second match.

Considering that he wasn't cursing her or calling her terrible, she supposed she wasn't doing too bad. It was clear at first that she hadn't played in a while—which she even admitted when he laughed at her deaths—but they weren't loosing matches because of her.

By the time they'd won four—losing none—he was reading out random questions from the chat that were directed at the two of them, but only after assuring her that he'd pick the most appropriate ones.

“You're not an idiot that's shipping me with Bridgette, are you, Mari?” Félix questioned with a groan after exclaiming that he wasn't going to answer any of those questions. The fact he was bringing it up with her, however, proved differently. “Please, tell me you're not.”

She hummed, a long and drawn out sound. “I don't really know? I haven't heard your latest tales with her to decide. It's also kind of your fault for always talking about her, you know.”

Laughing, he pointed out, “I was only answering questions! I wasn't expecting everyone to latch onto her.”

“You could've ignored them,” she shot back, only just remembering that thousands of people were listening in (and watching her failures from his point of view, too). “I really don't feel like I have a right to say anything about anything.”

“That's exactly why I'm asking you right now,” Félix quipped, only just saving her from dying without an exclamation of his aim. “Are you emotionally attached to my tale of woe with Bridgette? A lot of people are, for some reason, and I'm just curious why that is.”

She'd only been a viewer for a few months—having found streams after playing the current game they were on at that moment—but she easily answered, “I think it's because you don't talk about your personal life often? From what I've seen, that is.”

“So, people have latched onto the idea that Bridgette _is_ my personal life,” he remarked, a contemplative tone to his voice. “Well, that's kind of awkward. I can assure you, chat, that I have a lot more going on in my life than Bridgette.”

They played another few rounds, the time passing so it was late evening and approaching the time that she usually went to bed—but Félix hadn't said they were stopping soon, and from their winning streak, it seemed that he wanted to continue. As much as Marinette wanted to be responsible, she was enjoying herself immensely, and it wasn't an opportunity that would appear again in the future without a lot of luck.

“Mari,” Félix called, not immediately telling her to go a certain way on the map. “Chat wants to know if you have a job—I think it's their way of asking if you're legal or not.”

She choked out a laugh. “I'm a receptionist.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” he mused. “You do have a nice voice.”

According to him, a lot of outraged comments came through after that, accusing him of belittling Bridgette's feelings and not treating her right. The newest viewers were informed that Bridgette was his girlfriend by a few, only to be corrected by the command that gave the basic information of the story. It was amusing, definitely, and it seemed that Félix didn't find it too annoying from the way that his laughter wasn't forced.

“Okay, fine!” Félix said loudly out of the blue, clearly responding to comments. “I'll tell you why Bridgette _was_ avoiding me, but only if Mari wants to hear it. Your fate is completely up to her, rather than betting on whether we win the match.”

She was sure that if she was able to see the chat, there would've been a lot of spam demanding her to say yes. The Bridgette sensation had taken off, and there was still constant demands for her to have an emote to go along with the Plagg ones (she hadn't heard his cat since before she joined the voice chat, so she had to wonder where he'd wandered off to).

Smiling, Marinette quickly replied, “Well, I'd like to hear about it.”

He was offering the information, after all. If he truly minded, he wouldn't have told his viewers that little titbit of his life, much like how he kept his appearance away.

“You're a traitor!”

She laughed.

The topic wasn't brought up until they were queueing again, where there was still no announcement that they'd be stopping soon. Marinette was glad that she had to push a button to talk, as she was able to hide her yawns that way.

“You're all awful people, every single one of you,” he grumbled, the squeak of his chair being picked up by the microphone. “I— _fine_. I asked her out.”

If her laptop could've handled it, she would've gotten the chat up to see the reaction.

He sighed audibly. “No, you're all jumping to the worst conclusions. She said yes, actually.”

As much as she wanted to ask questions, she didn't feel comfortable enough to do so. They weren't close, not even friends, and she'd only been selected to play games with him, not delve into his personal life.

“I kind of panicked and walked away without getting her number,” Félix admitted with a laugh, sounding thoroughly embarrassed. “Then, she was gone for a while, so I thought it was because of me that she didn't come back. My boss would've literally killed me if he found out.”

An uncomfortable feeling settled in her stomach as she processed the words, thinking that it was _impossible_. There was—there was no chance that Waiter Boy was talking about her on the internet, let alone that he was popular due to his bright personality. She should've been able to recognise his voice after knowing him for half a year, yet there hadn't been a single inkling that something was familiar about him until the story started to come out.

Marinette was ever so thankful for microphone settings as she ran her fingers through her hair, thoroughly confused as she weighed her options. He—he had said that he was busy with his second job in the evenings, and those times seemed to match up perfectly with Félix's regular schedule.

His voice interrupted her trail of thought as he said, “That's why I did the giveaway—there's no stream on Saturday because I'm going out on a date with her.”

A choked noise escaped her.

 _How_ hadn't she noticed? Sure, people sounded different over the phone, but she couldn't have been dumb enough not to recognise him—

He didn't recognise her either. To him, at that moment, she was Mari, simply a girl that had won the giveaway on his stream, not the one that he was going on a date with on the weekend.

It wasn't a strange case of hero worship that had her accepting; she'd known him as the grumpy waiter before even finding out about Félix, and she wasn't the type of person to attempt to impress someone that was already entertaining thousands of people each night. Goodness, she'd only expected to get a good win ratio that evening, not to find out that he'd been talking about her on the internet.

With the knowledge that he turned his phone on silent during his streaming times, Marinette made the bold choice to press the specific button on the keyboard as she quietly said, “I-I overslept, actually.”

“Pardon?” Félix questioned, sounding confused.

She swallowed. “When I—I didn't go to the diner? I overslept that day and ended up late to work.”

Since he didn't cancel the queue, her laptop was filled with the loading screen of the game. Her hands were starting to feel clammy from the sudden nerves, and she was sure that she could hear her jittery heartbeat in her head as she waited for him to reply.

“If this is a joke—”

“You avoided me and got someone else to go to my table after you asked me out.”

He breathed out audibly. “This could still be a joke, and I'm trying really hard not to believe it.”

Tucking her hair behind her headset, Marinette quietly answered, “I'm not messing around with you, Jacques.”

There was a moment of silence, not even the noise of his mouse clicking, before he let out an extended groan. “Oh, fuck,” Félix—which really wasn't his real name—muttered, the low sound picked up by the microphone. “Fucking hell, no. That's not my name, chat, don't you dare try and use it.”

She tried not to laugh at his response. “Mine's not Bridgette.”

“I never said it was!” he defended himself weakly, and she was sure that if she could've seen him, the tops of his ears would've been coloured red. “I just—what the fuck is happening right now?”

A laugh escaped her at that, one that was breathy and honest as she couldn't quite believe in either. “Honestly, I didn't realise at all until just now.”

“This is horribly embarrassing,” he muttered, the sound of shifting clothing being picked up. “I don't really want to get into this on stream.”

“That's fine,” Marinette replied immediately, already starting to feel bad that she didn't wait. It would've kept her up for a while, worrying about all the possibilities, but she'd been thoughtless and acted on an impulse. “I'll just—I'll go to bed now, okay? If you want to call me in the morning, or even during my lunch break, I'll answer.”

Closing the game, she was about to exit the voice call, heart pounding, as he quietly said, “Good night, Marinette.”

“Yeah.” A smile tugged on her lips. “Try not to glower at anyone tomorrow, Marc.”

“Still not my name.”

-x-

It was the first time since exchanging numbers that they didn't talk in the morning. Marinette checked her cell phone every now and then to see whether he'd messaged, worried that she'd scared him off by her impulsiveness the night before. It had been inconsiderate of her, and she was absolutely dreading the reaction that his viewers had.

The Bridgette story had already been popular among them—enough to warrant a command on the channel—and she'd only added fuel to the fire by revealing herself, along with his job as a waiter, if they'd been paying attention.

She jumped when her phone vibrated in her hands on her lunch break.

“Hello?” she answered, voice cracking from the sudden nerves.

His voice was soft as he greeted her with, “Hey.”

“Hi,” Marinette returned, fiddling with one of her braids to give her other hand something to do. “I thought you weren't going to call.”

“I—It just seemed right to wait until I was actually awake to have this talk with you,” Félix replied, still quiet, though she could hear noises in the background.

Pulling back her phone for a moment, she confirmed that he still had an hour or so left to work. Either he'd specifically asked to take a break to talk to her, or there was a lack of customers, meaning he could slip away for a short amount of time.

Nervously, Marinette tentatively said, “I'm sorry if I said anything inappropriate on stream. I know I should've waited to say something, but I knew I wouldn't have been able to stay up long enough for you to finish playing.”

“You're apologising?” he blurted, louder than before as he sounded shocked. “I'm the one that's been talking about you online. Aren't you at all mad about that?”

“Not really? You never said anything bad about me, and you even gave me a fake name,” she responded easily, eyebrows furrowing as she realised that he was trying to shift the blame onto himself. “Are you really not mad at me for last night?”

She could hear him breathing. “Honestly, I'm still just really embarrassed that that happened at all.”

“If it helps, I still think you're cute.”

Félix laughed, a sound that didn't seem forced. “I hope you're not saying that to make me feel better.”

“It is a bit weird to know that strangers on the internet are invested in our not-so-romantic relationship,” Marinette mused. “There's even fanart of us, and we haven't even been on our first date yet.”

“Yet?” he parroted.

Smiling, she confirmed softly, “Yet, Michel.”

They spoke for a bit more, asking each other how their day had been instead of continuing on with the awkward topic of the stream, and she returned back to work afterwards with a smile on her face. After her shift finished, he messaged her like the other days, but that time he asked whether she'd be watching the stream that evening.

Although she was nervous, she told him she'd have it on in the background.

True to her word, she did just that. The laptop was placed on the counter as she cooked dinner, the speakers loud enough to hear over the sound of her clattering around with pots and pans, and she was listening in every now and then. To her amusement, the text at the bottom of his screen said that he wasn't going to talk about Bridgette that evening, no matter how often he was asked.

However, that only caused people to donate money, meaning the bot that voiced the text was reading out questions asking what had happened.

Félix, as he was known on the internet, groaned. “You're all dicks.”

It didn't take long for someone to go through the list of viewers and find her username. It was generic Mari with numbers attached to the end, the one that had popped up on the screen the previous day when she'd won the giveaway. She watched in bemusement as messages started to be addressed to her, only for him to reprimand them and threaten to turn the chat so only subscribers could type.

“There's still no stream on Saturday, by the way. I'm warning you all in hopes that you won't spam me with messages asking whether I'm dead, like that one time where I was ill,” he announced after winning a match.

Until the weekend came, they continued to message each other a lot. Marinette tuned into the stream in the evenings when she could, not quite working up the nerve to talk in the chat since she didn't want to cause a commotion or make him uncomfortable. It was still strange for her to associate someone that she watched often to being someone she actually knew in person; from the personality changes (which made sense—he had to be energetic to entertain people, and it sounded exhausting), to the way his laugh sounded exactly the same.

Well, knowing Félix had dimples was something that none of his viewers had guessed thus far.

It wasn't a classy or overly expensive restaurant that they'd chosen, thankfully. Marinette arrived clad in a modest skirt and shirt, hair in two braids, and she waited outside for a total of three minutes before he arrived.

“I thought you stood me up there,” she quipped, lips curling into a smile.

He grinned right back. “Sorry, it was hard finding a parking spot.”

It didn't seem to matter that they were both there earlier than their meeting time. He'd called ahead to book in table in his name, and when they sat down across from each other, she looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. “I never would've guessed Agreste for your name.”

The blond snorted. “That's because it's my surname, and you haven't been trying to guess that for months.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “That was smart of you to use it, then, Dominique.”

“I didn't want to ruin your fun on our first date,” he answered, laughter escaping at the end as he shook his name. “I'll give you points for creativity, but you haven't been close to my name even once.”

Humming in an exaggerated way, Marinette questioned, “Does this mean you'll give me a hint if this goes well?”

“Marinette, I'd tell you my actual name if you asked now.”

“Yes, _now_ ,” she emphasised, rolling her eyes. “What happened to your grumpy self that refused to tell me it, eh?”

Félix fiddled with the rim of his glass as he muttered, “You grew on me.”

“Right, because I'm your favourite customer,” she mused, smile reaching her eyes as she raised her eyebrows at him. “And yet, you continued to lie to me for months, telling me I was your worst instead.”

“Your ego isn't very charming,” he pointed out, lifting the glass to his lips. “I just—it was fun, that's all.”

Nodding, Marinette replied, “And it's fun for me to try and guess your name. However, I'm not going to say no to a hint, as it'll be pretty awkward if I start moaning random names when we're together.”

To her surprise, he spluttered and choked on his drink for a bit, face reddening from the sudden fit. After Félix had coughed, sipped some more water to soothe his throat, he looked at her with narrowed eyes. “That was on purpose, wasn't it?”

She had the gall to try and look innocent.

The date was nice, honestly. Félix—it was easier to refer to him as that in her head, rather than calling him Waiter Boy for eternity—was kind and amused her throughout it, and even though there had been a few awkward moments where they didn't know what to say, she enjoyed herself. Although they'd avoided talking about his stream at all, something that she couldn't ignore, when they were standing outside the restaurant with the both of them reluctant to walk to their cars in different directions, Marinette decided it was time to bring it up.

“Next time,” she started softly, licking her lips. “We could—I mean, if you _want_ to, I don't want to pressure you or anything—”

Félix looked at her fondly. “You're rambling.”

“Right.” She grimaced for a moment. “I'm just trying to say, we—we could go out in the day next time? So you wouldn't have to stop working for a day.”

Even with the careful selection of her words at the end there (not for the rest when she'd blurted out her thoughts instead), he caught onto her meaning instantly, his hand reaching up to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “Oh,” Félix breathed. “You—you'd want to?”

She blinked. “Yes?”

“That would be great, actually.” His grin was lopsided. “I didn't think you'd be up for doing that, so I was trying to think how I could work around that.”

That caused her to look at him in surprise. “You're willing to do that for me?”

Colour appeared on his cheeks as he replied quietly, “Only if you wanted to date me in the future.”

She knew how punctual Félix was with streaming; he appeared within ten minutes of his self-appointed time each evening, only missing them on the rare occasion where he was ill. He was dedicated and thoroughly enjoyed himself whenever he played, and the increasing popularity had only made him happier in the long run. To know that he'd even thought about working her into his already busy schedule was a compliment in itself.

“Absolutely,” Marinette whispered, smile reaching her eyes as she stepped closer to him. “You're a lot more charming than I originally thought you were.”

With a laugh, Félix asked, “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Maybe.” She grinned, their shoes almost touching from their closeness. “It could also be me building up to asking whether it's okay to kiss you, though.”

She watched as he swallowed. “I'd be absolutely fine with that.”

Taking in the way the lights illuminated his face, showing his eyelashes that had blond on the tips, Marinette purposely closed the distance slowly and made it so her kiss was on the corner of his lips, mostly on his cheek. It was teasing, quick, and light, and she grinned as she pulled back to see his bewildered expression.

“Maybe next time, Thomas.”

-x-

They continued to message throughout the day, even phoning each other for a while before he started to stream. He was more open with his schedule from then on, telling her the amount of time before he started, even asking her self-consciously whether she'd watched the previous night's broadcast the next morning.

Marinette answered honestly, saying she usually watched his previous ones to catch up, since she slept through a few hours.

Félix was the one to tell her that some of his viewers had found her social media. It was understandable, really, as she used the same username almost everywhere. There was nothing about him on any of them, though, and since his faceless profile picture only showed blond hair, they couldn't jump to conclusions and assume that he was the one in any of the pictures she had on her accounts. A few friend requests came, along with questions asking whether she was Bridgette, but she decided to ignore most of them.

“Are you sure you're okay with this?” Félix questioned, referring to one of the messages she'd just received. “I could—I don't know, really. There's nothing I can do.”

She leaned back against her sofa, replying softly, “Hey, it's not your fault. I was the idiot that blurted it out while you were live. It's okay, really. I haven't actually had much harassment.”

That didn't mean he didn't feel bad about it, though. Félix continued to apologise for it, asking her daily whether she was really okay with dating him, and she'd always give him that answer that as long as he continued to be himself, then she would.

He laughed at that a lot.

Their second date was in the afternoon. Afterwards, he drove her to her apartment building and politely declined the invitation to go upstairs. He had to awkwardly point out the time, and she was surprised to realise that it was close to the usual time he started streaming.

“That's fine,” she insisted, a soft smile on her lips. “We'll just have to go out earlier next time, Sylvie.”

Félix snorted. “My name starts with an A, by the way.”

“A. Agreste?” Marinette raised her eyebrows. “Your parents must've been fond of alliteration.”

“That or they just liked batteries,” he muttered.

The laughter that escaped her was honest.

That evening, after she'd finished cleaning up and was able to sit down and simply watch him playing, she built up the courage to talk in the chat. It was silly, really, but it had taken her some time to work up to that at all. From the speed of the different users talking, her greeting was flooded out quickly, not noticed, and it was only when someone donated that they pointed out that she was there at all.

Félix laughed. “Well, thank you for pointing her out, I guess. Hi, Mari.”

She burst out in chortles when another donation came in, reprimanding and saying that her name was Bridgette. The command was still there for those that were confused about the sudden topic change, and he accepted the chastisement with bemusement.

“Fine, I'll call her Bridgette whenever she's here,” he agreed, the smile clear in his voice. “It's only so you guys won't be confused every time someone asks what happened to Bridgette.”

The following nights, the reaction was much the same; when she typed something into the chat, others would copy and paste it to be spam, sometimes adding emoticons and other silly text to it, and others would demand to know what was happening, along with the usual requests to see his face while he was playing.

Félix said that he wasn't bothered by it, that he'd already dealt with such persistent requests for two years, but he was worried that she'd be put off from watching him due to it.

Marinette had smiled fondly to herself. “I'm fine with it, really. I've already seen how strange your chat can be for months—they're not actually harming anyone.”

The times she went to the diner after they started dating, Félix was still the tired person filled with grumpiness that she'd grown used to. Marinette grinned and laughed as he looked at her with half-lidded eyes, lips curled down into a frown as he blinked blearily. It was quite endearing, and it was due to knowing his schedule that she knew that he wasn't getting enough sleep. Although they didn't talk about his income—it seemed inappropriate to do so—he had remarked the possibility of quitting his job at the diner, though he'd mused that the hours he'd get at other part-time jobs would collide with his streaming more.

Their first kiss was on their third date.

They'd met earlier in the afternoon, just after he'd finished work and only had time to change, but it had given them enough time for him to come up to her apartment to relax for a bit before he had to go home. Marinette had self-consciously started to show him her apartment, but any worries of how he'd react were squashed when he tripped over while trying to take his shoes off.

Sure, he wasn't as energetic as the personality he amplified on stream, but he was still _nice_. Félix genuinely cared about what she had to say, asked about how her day at work was without fail, and he cheered her up when she was down. While she'd only felt amusement for him in the beginning, it was blossoming into fond feelings that he truly deserved for how he was treating her. The way he constantly apologised and tried to see whether his night job bothered her was sweet, too, even though he knew that she was a fan of it.

It wasn't as strange as she would've thought. He tried to invite her to play with him again, either on stream or off of it in private, but she has hesitant to accept at all. Any of the free time they had, she would've rather met up with him in person, so she was able to see his dimpled smile that brightened up his face—well, that and that she was dubious of the reaction she'd receive if she popped up on his team, constantly playing with him, even if they weren't on a voice call.

“I wouldn't mind playing with you,” the blond-haired reminded her, sitting beside her on the sofa, their thighs touching. “I'm not—I don't want to _force_ you to play it, though, but you're not bad. If you played more consistently, you'd be a force to be reckoned with, definitely.”

She blinked. “As fun as it is, I stopped playing since none of my friends are interested in it. There's only many times I can deal with toxicity.”

“You didn't seem to dislike it when you were with me,” he pointed out, a smile on his lips. “Or was that just because of my wonderful presence?”

With a laugh, Marinette retorted, “You were mostly cursing at people.”

“Yes, but you like that, apparently.” He raised his eyebrows. “You're not going to ask me to talk like that to you in private, are you?”

She hit his shoulder lightly. “You're a dork.”

“You like that, too.”

“I think I like you better in the mornings,” she muttered.

Félix's grin grew lopsided. “You have to spend an evening with me before you get to see me in the morning, though.”

They talked for a bit, their body language comfortable as they laughed and gestured with their hands to emphasise their words—something Marinette only did when she was at ease with someone—and it was only when he remarked on the time that she walked to the door with him.

When she leaned closer that time, she didn't teasingly kiss the corner of his mouth. As their lips brushed, it was hesitant and soft, not a passion filled moment that was filled with lust. Marinette gripped onto his shirt with one of her hands, the other one clasped in his as he intertwined their fingers.

It wasn't perfect; they were clumsy at times, unsure of how to interact with each other properly, but it was _nice_. Everything about him seemed to make her happy and comfortable; the feelings she had for him weren't the kind that had her hands clammy from nerves or expectations, rather; she felt that she could be herself with him, as he never made her purposely feel insecure about herself.

As his tongue brushed against her lower lip, a silent request to take it further, she complied easily. Marinette's grip on his shirt became tighter as she moved closer, their chests pressing against each other as their kiss deepened, the feeling of his warm breath against her face a grounding sensation. There was a budding feeling of want within her, one that she wasn't going to indulge herself in on her doorstep, but knowing that they were compatible for more than talking was reassuring.

When they broke apart, she admired his reddened lips that were entirely her doing.

“I'll call you when I get home,” he promised, showing a fond smile, “so you won't be worried.”

Marinette's own grin reached her eyes as she said, “Thanks for today, Sylvie.”

He groaned. “I said my name starts with an _A_.”

“I've been holding onto that one for a while, okay,” she defended herself with a laugh. “I'll move onto the right letter now, I'm sorry.”

-x-

Alya was equally elated and annoyed that Marinette had managed to find herself a boyfriend that she was terribly fond of; the annoyance was because of how far away she lived, so they hadn't met in person for almost a year at that point. Still, Marinette dutifully filled her best friend in on her life, learning what Alya was doing in turn.

The first one to find out about her relationship with Félix, other than Alya, was her uncle. It was understandable, really. From the amount of time Félix spent at the diner—for the past few years, it turned out—it wasn't surprising for her uncle to know that she was having fun guessing his name. One day, when she'd walked into her uncle's office after leaving a tip to stop off and greet him, as he hadn't appeared with her meal for a while and her parents had asked her to pass on her love, she'd blushed from embarrassment when her uncle had explained that he was trying to give her and Félix time to get to know each other without his presence there.

Of course, he had to ask whether she was closer to his name or not.

Marinette huffed. “You're going to gossip about this to my parents, aren't you?”

“I'll make no promises.” Her uncle grinned. “They'll be happy just to know you're dating.”

The first time they'd played together since the giveaway, it was because it was raining awfully outside. With the stream off—it was too early for his broadcast time, and he slyly said that he wanted her all to himself—they joined voice chat together, playing enough for her to not feel so rusty any more. When either of them messed up, there was no actual anger if they lost the game due to it; rather, Marinette went out of her way to deliberately cause his death at times, her laughter resulting in her suffering the same fate because of it.

“Avery, this is unfair,” she muttered as she stared at the timer before she her character was alive again. “I didn't even know that tunnel was there.”

He snorted. “You can't pretend you haven't led me to my death before—also, not my name.”

“At this rate, I'm waiting for you to just ignore me until I'm finally right.”

Félix's laughter still sounded lovely through her headphones. “What if I ignore that, too? You'll never know if you're right.”

“That's just cruel,” Marinette groaned.

“Really?” he mused, the contemplative tone purposely exaggerated. “I think not knowing my name for nine months is much crueller.”

As the sound of her pressing her keyboard was audible, Marinette defended herself with, “I'm getting closer with every passing day. And if this is anyone's fault, it's yours for refusing to tell me before.”

“That was before I liked you,” he grumbled.

“I'm your boss' favourite customer, you have every reason to like me,” she replied flippantly. “And don't think I haven't heard you pining over me for months, mister.”

Félix choked out a laugh. “That was before I knew you were listening!”

“You can still wax poetry about my messy hair to thousands of people, I won't be mad,” Marinette answered, voice shaking as she tried to hold in her laughter. “Besides, a lot of them are demanding to hear about our love story. When are you going to shut them up and say I'm your girlfriend?”

“That wouldn't—” Félix started to say, only to interrupt himself with a noise of surprise as he died abruptly. “That would only make it worse,” he amended, not offended as she snickered at his reaction. “I'm not going to do anything you're not comfortable with—I mean, I'm not even showing my face because of how people can be.”

If he could've seen her, she would've shrugged. “I'm not that bothered by it, honestly. Even if the reaction's negative, there's not much they can do to me. Besides, I-I just want to be involved in your life, that's all.”

“Oh,” he said quietly. “That's—that's actually really sweet.”

She wondered whether the top of his ears had turned red. “You say that like I'm usually awful.”

“You're pretty bad most of the time,” he replied, fondness clear in his tone. “I don't really understand why I like you.”

She snorted. “I'm the only when that doesn't run away from your death glares in the morning.”

“I'm not _that_ bad.”

Marinette hummed, a purposely loud noise. “You're barely able to hold a conversation in the morning, and you work in a diner.”

“Your uncle's fine with it—he finds me hilarious in the mornings, I'll have you know,” Félix pointed out, sounding slightly smug. “Shit, this is a family thing, isn't it? I'll just have to meet your parents within an hour or two of waking up and they'll _love_ me.”

“I'm not sure whether you're an idiot or a genius right now.”

They started to play together almost daily before he started streaming. Félix insisted that it counted as his warm-up—that he usually had at the beginning—and he reminded her that he'd rather spend time with her rather than lounging around at his home until it was time for him to work. It was sweet how he was trying to include her into his life, even more so when the requested Bridgette emote appeared on his channel.

The first time Marinette saw it, noticing that it was complete with messy hair, she'd groaned at him the following day at the diner. “You actually commissioned one,” she lamented, hands pressed against her warm cheeks. “You're unbelievable.”

“We're dating,” he replied, the answer clipped and short as he looked borderline miserable, covering a yawn with his hand afterwards.

Her lips tugged into a fond smile. “You should try and get some more sleep, you know.”

He squinted. “Yes.”

“I don't know whether that's you agreeing with me, or you actually planning to listen,” the dark-haired female mused, raising her hand to wave as her uncle looked at her briefly as he passed through the doors. “I still don't know how you managed to keep a job here when you're a terror in the mornings.”

“We haven't had sex,” Félix pointed out, scribbling her usual order on his notepad.

She spluttered. “Are you trying to tell me you'll be different the morning after that? I don't think so, Aloin.”

With a roll of his eyes—that looked entirely too attractive with how tired he looked—the blond disappeared through the diner to continue with his job. He returned with her drink some minutes later, not staying to talk then or when he dropped off her food. Marinette left the usual tip on the table, but she included a short message written on the napkin for him.

From the way she received multiple exclamation points as a message, she assumed he'd found it.

Alya came to visit with her boyfriend, Nino, and the two of them stayed in Marinette's cramped little apartment for the weekend a few weeks later. As she was excited for them to meet Félix, even after awkwardly explaining the name thing away, only to receive very judging looks from the two of them (the glare of the light reflecting on both of their glasses didn't help), she took the two of them to the diner purposely in the afternoon. As charming as he was when he was tired, she didn't want to annoy the blond too much with the added guests.

Even though her two friends called her ridiculous, the goofy smile she had on her face afterwards wasn't lessened by their teasing.

In turn, Marinette met some of Félix's friends online in exchange. It was awkward at first, sure, but as soon as they went into voice chat and could actually talk instead of typing to each other—where tones could easily be misunderstood with so much as misplaced punctuation—it was quite fun.

After visiting his home a few times, finding out it was a quaint bungalow with cat toys scattered around the rooms, Marinette accepted the offer to stay the evening, even though he would still be working. Although she was sat in his bedroom, and could hear him talk loudly at times through the thin walls from where he was sat in his little study (where the only decoration was a scratching post to try and lure Plagg away from the desk), she still pulled up the stream on her phone after putting her earphones in.

She'd fallen asleep before he finished, but when she woke up in the morning, he was there in the bed beside her, Plagg curled up by his feet.

As she didn't have to work that day, even though he did, Marinette slowly climbed out of bed and excused herself to the bathroom. When she returned, he was sat up with the duvet pooled by his waist, lazily rubbing at his tired eyes as he barely paid attention to the suddenly purring cat walking around him.

“Morning, grumpy,” she greeted, reaching out to touch his messy hair. “Am I allowed to make breakfast for us?”

From the lack of a no, she assumed that he was fine with it. The nights that she continued to stay at his—only for whenever she had a day off, as she didn't want to be late—she made breakfast in the mornings with increasing comfortableness in the kitchen, slowly learning where he placed everything. It helped that he'd decided to stick little notes on the cupboards, writing down what was inside, even though a few had fallen on the floor by the next morning.

They were taking their relationship slow. Well, as slow as it could be when she was already asleep by the time he crawled into bed whenever she was at his house. Félix had offered to take a day off from his job to go to hers, but she'd adamantly rejected and said that it wasn't right for him to shrug off his self-appointed responsibility for a new romance.

“You're making it sound like we just have a fling,” he'd muttered to that.

Marinette made sure to go out of her way to express how happy he was with him after that, even quietly asking whether he still wanted to play with her on the stream.

He grew quiet after she'd asked. “Really?” he enquired, sounding suspicious as they sat beside each other within a café. “You're not just saying this to make me happy, are you?”

She'd been the one rejecting the idea, after all. “No,” Marinette assured him, a shy smile on her lips. “If you want me there, I'd love to join you—only for a bit, though. I can't stay up to ridiculous hours and be you the next morning.”

And that was how she found herself settled on her desk a few days later that week, headphones on and a blanket covering her legs as she waited for him to invite her. He insisted that she should be there early, when he started, so they could spend more time together, but she was still anxious.

It wasn't everyday that thousands of people listened into her conversations with her boyfriend.

Surprisingly, it wasn't as terrible as she'd imagined. Félix spoke to his chat a lot, yes, and answered questions that were asked, but he didn't outright ignore her. It was similar to the giveaway, except they were more comfortable with each other, so the teasing comments and jokes slipped out.

She choked when he told her that someone donated a large amount of money, saying that it was an investment for their wedding.

Marinette's cheeks hurt from smiling by the time she'd logged off and gotten into bed.

There was a long message waiting for her the following morning. It included Félix thanking her, a few links to the new terrible drawings of the two of them—her face had been copied from her pictures on social media onto a stick figure—and it ended with him saying that she was welcome to join him again any time she wished, backing up his words by saying that his viewer count hadn't dropped due to her presence.

She took him up on it, playing with him once or twice a week if she didn't have to stay too late at work.

The biggest surprise came the morning after she'd stayed over his for an evening, sock-clad feet quiet as she entered his kitchen, checking the cupboards to see what ingredients she had to work with.

Félix had stubbornly insisted that he'd visit the store, as eloquent as he could be with his short sentences, and he trudged out of the door with messy hair and the promise that he'd be back within half an hour.

The time was filled by the obnoxious sound of his cell phone ringing constantly, left unanswered as he'd forgotten to take it with him. Marinette had assumed that the caller would stop after a few tries, but they kept it up for at least ten minutes before she groaned and entered the bedroom, searchingfor it out to see who was calling.

It wasn't a name that she recognised, but when they'd called three more times, Marinette hesitantly accepted the call and placed it against her ear.

“You'd never believe what I just had to put up with.” The voice was distinctly female, not a teenager or younger, but it suited the name that was appearing on the screen. “I get it, okay? Really, I'm completely fine with you ignoring Gabriel, but when he calls _me_ because you don't want to talk to him, it's fucking ridiculous when it happens at seven o'clock in the morning.”

Marinette tried to interject, to say that Félix couldn't get to the phone at that moment, but her short chance was stolen after the stranger had recovered their breath.

Chloé let out a humourless laugh. “You _owe_ me, even more than usual. I demand at least a pair of shoes for dealing with him. Seriously, I'm picking them out myself.”

“I—” she tried to interject.

“Whatever, you idiot. I'll talk to you later when you're coherent, Adrien—just remember you're taking me shopping sometime soon.” And with that said, Chloé finished the call before Marinette could speak any further.

Well, that wasn't how she'd thought she'd learn his name. Sure, she'd wondered whether she'd find it printed on letters in his home, or even from someone else saying it in passing; really, it was a surprise that she'd managed not to know it for that long.

“Adrien,” she repeated to herself, nodding. It suited him, more so than Félix. Her lips curled into smile at that, repeating it again with his last name attached to it.

When Adrien returned ten minutes later, plastic bags by his hands and more shopping than he should've bought at all, Marinette raised her eyebrows in silent judgement. Although he didn't talk, the top of his ears turned pink, a charming feature about him that she appreciated. She wondered how hard it would've been to tell if he was embarrassed if he grew his hair longer.

After she'd placed bowls in front of the two of them and sat down beside him on the little table, Marinette quipped, “So, Chloé seems nice.”

His eyebrows knitted together.

“She called a lot while you were gone, so I answered with the intention of telling her you were busy. I didn't really get the change to with how fast she talked,” she explained between mouthfuls, uncertain whether he'd be offended that she'd answered his phone.

She knew that Adrien was fine with her touching his things—that was obvious from the way he left her alone in his home, along with when he placed himself in the study, leaving the rest of the house for her to wander in while he streamed.

“Oh,” he murmured, looking thoughtful.

She snorted. “That's very expressive of you.”

He looked at her flatly before yawning.

When she told him what Chloé rambled on about, Marinette learned that Gabriel was his father. They weren't on good terms the past few years, not after Adrien had failed his course at university and decided not to retake it. Chloé was his childhood friend, one that had been in his life since primary school, so it seemed that his father went to her for updates of his life when Adrien wouldn't answer the calls.

“No wonder she's demanding for you to buy her shoes, then,” the dark-haired female mused, her smile turning genuine when she saw him scowl. “Oh, she's done this before?”

He muttered, “A lot.”

As neither of them had to go to work that day (he'd specifically asked for the day off), they lazed around his home for a while. There wasn't anything specific that they wanted to do, and since it was raining outside, they'd decided to watch different films or shows, both of them not quite agreeing on whether it was good or not. When they settled with watching a horror film, Marinette was smothering her laughter into her shoulder from the terrible special effects, entirely too amused by the overly dramatic blood splatters.

“You're a terrible person for finding this entertaining,” Adrien remarked, facial features scrunched together in disgust from the close shot of a corpse. “I'd prefer braving the rain rather than watching this.”

With a laugh, she offered, “We can really do that, if you want. I'll get wet feet just for you.”

“That means they'll turn cold, though,” the blond replied, shaking his head. “I'd rather not get to that point of our relationship yet.”

Instead of going out, as she'd clearly intended when she stood up and started to collect her belongings, they ended up kissing on the couch. Adrien's hand was caressing her side underneath her loose shirt, the other keeping him upright so she wouldn't be crushed by his body, but the closeness allowed her to feel the obvious arousal that was pressed against her thighs.

Marinette shifted her hips, intentionally rubbing against him in the process, sure that he was able to feel her smile as they kissed. Their breaths were coming out erratic, the warmth of his body complimenting her own, and a groan of disappointment escaped her as he pulled away.

He licked at his reddened lips. “You know I'm not going to do anything like this until you actually know my name.”

As silly had it sounded, they hadn't really had the chance to advance onto sexual things; not when he was busy in the evenings, with her falling asleep first, and their busy schedules. Marinette had been fine just for them to talk and spend time together, but when they kissed until he pulled back with a teasing lilt to his voice, hinting that all she had to do was ask, she couldn't help but laugh.

She wanted to mess with him a little.

“Who's the terrible one now?” she muttered, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You're lucky that you're cute.”

Although her underwear felt a little damp and he didn't even bother to cover up his crotch when they sat upright beside each other again, stiff and awkward before they relaxed, she didn't feel rejected. From the way that he was laughing at her stupid joke, she assumed that he was fine, too.

They spent the rest of the day together, waiting until the rain had disappeared for her to leave. Marinette collected her things half an hour before he had to start streaming, promising to message him to say that she'd returned home safely, and her lips curled into a teasing smile when he slipped on shoes and walked her to her car.

“Thanks for today,” she started, kissing him chastely. “It was fun.”

He let out a disbelieving laugh. “We could've been doing something better than watch bad television shows.”

“Well, we also watched some bad films, too,” the dark-haired female pointed out. “Seeing your reaction to them was a lot more amusing than I thought it would've been.”

“I don't know whether that's a compliment or not,” he murmured, squinting.

She grinned, showing her teeth. “You'll never know, Adrien.”

He blinked.

As her grin grew, he looked at her suspiciously, as though he was trying to tell whether it was a guess of hers or not. However, when he caught sight of her smug-looking smile, he let out a sigh, reaching up and brushing some of the blond tresses away from his forehead.

“You've known all day, haven't you?”

If possible, her grin grew wider. “Why would you want that?” she asked, trying to sound innocent as she rocked on the heels of her shoes. “I'd _never_.”

“No wonder you didn't put up much a fuss when we were kissing earlier,” Adrien accused, pointing his index finger towards her. “You're absolutely evil, did you know that?”

She batted her eyelashes in an exaggerated manner. “I'm an angel.”

When he moved closer to her, their shoes almost touching, she didn't shy away. Marinette beamed as he placed over her shoulder onto her vehicle, face hovering near enough to hers that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. She could see the blond at the end of his eyelashes, the different shades of green within his irides, and she watched in appreciation as his lips curled into a smile, dimples showing on his cheeks as it reached his eyes.

His lips lightly brushed against hers as he whispered, “Good-bye, Marinette.”

It was clear that he was only teasing her when he stepped back, the grin turning wolfish as he looked at visibly surprised expression.

“Oh,” she breathed, her first reaction not the most coherent. “And _I'm_ the evil one?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I'm sorry, did I tease you?”

She narrowed her eyes.

-x-

Adrien did buy Chloé shoes, but he also brought Marinette along with him. Chloé was tall, had long golden-coloured hair, and blue eyes that were narrowed towards her at first, but she warmed up after they spent a few hours together. Chloé had a sharp sense of humour, preferred to be blunt as possible whenever she could, and by the end of the afternoon, she'd demanded Marinette's phone so she could put her number into it, not even asking.

“Well, she's sure something,” Marinette remarked with a whistle when she found herself alone with him, both of them walking up the stairs to her apartment.

He snorted. “That's one way of describing her, yes.”

“That's no way to talk about your best friend,” she scolded.

Shrugging lightly, Adrien pointed out, “I can have more than one best friend, you know.”

“I hope you don't buy all your friends expensive shoes.” Marinette laughed. “No wonder you have to have two jobs if that's what you do with your money.”

As she unlocked her door, the blond announced suddenly, “I'm thinking of quitting, actually.”

Turning around quickly, she looked at him with wide eyes. “Wh—what?” she stuttered out. “I thought you like what you do, so why—”

Realisation was clear on his expression. “Not like that!” Adrien replied, shaking his head quickly. “I meant at the diner.”

“Oh.” She blinked. It wasn't something they'd really discussed, not even when she lamented about how many phone calls she had to answer as a receptionist. “What's brought on this? I'm not going to snitch to my uncle, if you're worried about that. I'm perfectly capable of keeping secrets.”

“I know you wouldn't,” he reassured her, fondness clear in his voice. “I've been thinking about it for a while, but I was just scared that the numbers I'm reaching wouldn't be consistent.”

She nodded in understanding. It was perfectly reasonable for him to worry about reaching the right amount of money each month to pay for his rent, let alone for the rest of his purchases, too. If she was in his place, she probably would've never considered leaving her job, even if it was part-time. Then again, she wasn't known for taking risks often.

Marinette offered as she collected glasses for the two of them, “If that's what you want to do, I'll support you however I can.”

“I really hope you're not trying to offer me money there.”

She snorted. “I meant more along the lines of being your alarm clock, but sure.”

“Do you think I should change my hours?” Adrien questioned, honestly requesting her opinion.

Carefully, she replied, “I think you should do whatever will help you in the long run—like taking one day off, perhaps. If you keep close to your current times, you can sleep in for longer in the mornings because you don't have to go to the diner at the crack of dawn.”

“That's actually a good idea,” he agreed, settling down on the sofa as he accepted the drink from her hands. “I don't know whether to be impressed or not.”

She hit him lightly on the shoulder. “The time's you have now are working for you, right? Just pick a day from the weekend to take off, that way you can go out at night without being ill or giving advance notice—more freedom for you.”

“I feel like you're being unusually smart right now,” Adrien mused, squinting at her. “Are you sure you're my girlfriend?”

“Not any more,” she deadpanned.

He gave him his resignation to her uncle the following week.

It was nerve-wracking for him, that was clear. Adrien told her his worries on voice call while they played before his stream started. That evening was the one that he was planning to tell his regular viewers about the upcoming changes to his channel. The support he'd received the past months had been steady and increasing, a lot of new subscribers and followers appearing with each session. The silly clips of him being uploaded and shared were consistent, and it was a compliment to him that he didn't have many boring broadcasts; the last time he'd been criticised, it was because he was considerably ill, and too stubborn to take time off.

A few hours into the stream and it was going well. Adrien had changed the text in the bottom of the screen to tell viewers to type a command into chat, one that explained the changes to whoever asked. Some had taken to spamming it—and therefore had to be timed out, so they couldn't type for an allotted amount of time—but it was generally received well.

“No, I'm not playing with Bridgette today,” he recited with a laugh. “She is in the chat, if you want to talk to her. Remember, inappropriate comments are being deleted, and you'll be banned if you write them consistently.”

It felt different to be proud of him since knowing him in person; to connect the success to his bright smile, the sight of his bright smile, and knowing how he looked when he laughed. It was all small details that his viewers didn't know—not from lacking of trying—but he was more than happy to share them with her, along with other things.

To hear him casually answer questions, even cracking bad jokes, made her realise how much she really liked him. Adrien had a bright personality when he was awake, and even when he was waking up in the mornings, he was still charming in his own way. She appreciated a lot about him; the positive outlook he had on life, the way he easily held her hand when they were watching stuff together—even his interactions with his cat were adorable.

She put a message into the chat to say that she was going to bed, even though she repeated the action on her cell phone, just to make sure that he'd see it when he was finished.

He stayed at the diner for two more weeks before he was finished, and she continued to visit almost weekly, as she had done for months on end. Marinette dared to kiss his cheek the final time she'd see him there, laughing as his ears turned pink as he shuffled on the spot awkwardly, knowing that it was inappropriate to reciprocate the affection while he was working.

With the celebration of him quitting came a surprise promotion for her. Marinette was given the position of being an assistant to one of the designers within the company, and she was overjoyed with the chance, even though she'd still be handling phone calls. It meant that she had more freedom than mostly sitting at the desk, greeting guests and asking the phone for hours on end; she was allowed to walk through the halls more often than not, using a pencil for more than writing down notes.

On the first weekend where he had a day off from streaming, she found herself smiling as he climbed into bed beside her.

“You're looking really smug right now,” he muttered, being able to make out his narrowed eyes due to the light that was coming in through her window.

She grinned wider. “Of course. I've finally gotten you into my bed.”

“I'm pretty sure I've sat on this before,” Adrien pointed out, laughter causing his voice to be higher-pitched than normal. “If you don't tone it down, I'll start to think that you're going to murder me soon.”

“Are you trying to say that my happiness makes me look deranged?” Marinette questioned, visibly crossing her arms as she pressed her head further into the pillow. “That's hurtful, you know.”

With a laugh, he defended himself, “I didn't say that at all.”

“You implied it—that's just as bad.” She jutted out her lower lip dramatically. “I'm just happy that you're finally here, is that weird?”

“No,” Adrien answered, shifting closer so their knees were touching, propping himself up with his arms so he was sitting up slightly. “I'm sorry I couldn't sleep with you before.”

She choked out a laugh.

He looked horrified for a moment. “I didn't mean it like _that_.”

“It would've been fine if you did,” Marinette whispered, extending her hand to run her fingers over his clothed chest. “I'm a big fan of having sex before sleeping, aren't you?”

He cleared his throat. “You're being very upfront about this.”

Aware that warmth had collected on her cheeks, Marinette raised her eyebrows as she enquired, “Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, absolutely not,” Adrien replied quickly, pushing some of the hair from his forehead. “I just didn't expect it, that's all.”

Due to the months of them both being stubborn with the name nonsense, they'd only expanded their intimate moments past kissing for a month or so. It had mostly been during the day with Adrien awkwardly closing the curtains in his bedroom whenever they were together, adamant that the home beside his was able to see through his window. She hadn't made fun of him for that, not even when she'd shrugged and insisted that her windows provided adequate privacy due to the floor that she lived on, along with the fact her bedroom didn't face the street.

Leaning forward so their foreheads touched, she murmured, “Well, it is the first time you're in bed at the same time as me to go to sleep.”

He kissed her lightly. “Any more surprises I need to look out for?”

“I don't have any cats that will jump on you in your sleep, sorry.”

Laughing, Adrien retorted, “It was one time!”

“He jumped on me to get to _you_ ,” she muttered, pressing her lips to his at the end of it.

It was purposely slow and sweet at first, lasting only a few seconds before he pulled away to reply, “It's not my fault he's not used to visitors. You should feel honoured that he likes you at all.”

“I feel so loved,” Marinette grumbled, nose pressing against his cheek from their closeness. “At least we're alone for now.”

“I feel like you're just overly paranoid of being naked around my cat,” Adrien commented, sounding amused. “Did you not grow up with pets?”

With a dramatic sigh, she chastised him playfully with, “Adrien, I wanted to get you naked, not talk about the woes of my lack of pet from my childhood. As lovely as it is talking to you, I'm well informed that your mouth has other talents.”

She could hear as he swallowed. ”...You really are straightforward today.”

A burst of laughter escaped her. “That's all you have to say?” Marinette questioned through her chortles, voice coming out breathy as she fell down onto the pillow, squishing half of her face into the soft material. “I'm trying to seduce you right now.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” he murmured, reaching out and brushing some of the hair from her face, making it so he could see her half-hearted glare from the dim lighting. “You're not in a rush to sleep, are you?”

“No, that's why I wanted your clothes gone,” she muttered, eyes darting down to stare at the accusatory clothing. “Yet, you're here asking about my childhood instead.”

His fingers moved the strap of her top, revealing her shoulder from the slight movement. “Is learning about your life not sexy?”

“If you're turned on about stories of me before puberty, I think there might be something wrong with you,” Marinette retorted, breaking into a smile as he looked offended. “However, I'm willing to forgive you if you finally take your t-shirt off.”

With his eyebrows raised, Adrien pulled off the article of clothing, hastily folding it and placing it on one of her bedside tables. “There, am I forgiven?”

“That depends if you have socks on or not.”

“When are you going to touch my feet, Marinette?” he questioned, a lilt of amusement in his voice. “But no, I don't. I think you're just overly offended by all of my clothing.”

She pulled a face. “I'm offended that you wore them to bed at all.”

Furrowing his brow, Adrien pointed out, “But we wear them all the time to bed? You even leave pyjamas over at mine, so I'm really not understanding the problem.”

“Yes, when we don't sleep at the same time,” she replied, index finger pointing down to his underwear. “Now we finally have the chance to do things since neither of us is too tired.”

Holding his hands up in a sign of surrender, the blond-haired male took off the remainder of his clothing, and she copied his movements, too. After covering the two of them in the duvet, Marinette turned so her back was facing him, settling down on the mattress and scooting towards him until she could feel his chest against her.

“What?”

She grinned into the pillow. “Yes?”

“I thought—”

“That we're doing things?” Marinette questioned, amusement seeping into her tone. “Yes, we are. We're spooning, Adrien.”

She could feel it as he cleared his throat, a warm arm wrapping around her waist loosely. “You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?”

“Don't you want to tell me about your childhood now?” she asked, shifting her body in hopes for being comfortable, purposely brushing against him in the process. “After all, you're the one that started asking about it first.”

He muttered into her hair, “That was before we were naked.”

“What a shame.” She snickered. “You'll have to deal with the consequences of your actions.”

When his fingers started to wander, she didn't fidget or jump as she expected herself to. Marinette stayed still, allowing him to do as he pleased from his limited position, hand caressing her hip before moving onto her thighs slowly, teasingly touching the sensitive flesh. She only stiffened when he pushed aside the dark hair from her neck, making it so he could press kisses to her newly exposed skin, causing her to squirm.

“Adrien,” she called out, trying to push him away with her shoulder as he gently bit down on the expanse of her neck, eyes squeezed shut as she tried not to laugh. “This is mean.”

He bit down harder.

Laughter escaped her as she squatted him away, turning over to face him and quickly covering her neck from him. “You know I'm ticklish there.”

She was able to make out that he was grinning widely.

“ _Fine_ ,” Marinette gave in, leg curling around his as she shuffled closer. “I'll indulge you if you promise not to bite me there again.”

“Way to make it sound like having sex with me is a chore,” Adrien muttered, fingers twisting into her hair as he pulled her into his chest, face near enough that she could feel his breath. “Am I that much of a bother?”

She kissed the end of his nose. “Yes.”

“I'm getting mixed signals here.”

Beaming, Marinette trailed her fingers down his chest before wrapping them loosely around his heated arousal, pleased with the contrast of temperature between it and her skin. “Oh, are you?”

“Terribly,” he confirmed against her lips, coaxing her into a lazy kiss.

As they kissed, Marinette increased the sloppy rhythm of her hand, spurred on by the panted breaths that started to escape him. She could feel heat building within her abdomen, travelling lower as her the pulse between her legs became apparent; fast and demanding, wanting for more. As his tongue trailed across her lower lip, seeking to deepen the kiss, she fully agreed and eagerly responded. They continued like that until he was pulling away and pressing his head into the pillow with his eyes closed, and her wrist was starting to protest from the motions.

When they parted, she reached over to her bedside table to collect a foil wrapper. It was swiftly rolled onto him and tossed into the bin, her peppering kisses across his shoulders as she moved to straddle him, his back against the mattress as he caressed the soft skin of her hips. She didn't protest as he squeezed her backside in appreciation, not even when she put weight onto her knees and guided his arousal with one hand, slowly lowering down with an audible intake of breath.

There was a tinge of pain at first from the lack of preparation, but it wasn't too bad. Adrien didn't push her to move too quickly, simply letting her sit there and adjust to the change, shifting her weight ever so slightly as she got comfortable. Her knees were pressing into the springs of her cheap mattress, a small irritation, but seeing his dimpled smile as he caressed her hips was worth it.

“I'm so happy you're not calling me ridiculous names right now.”

She snorted. “One can always slip out.”

“That'll absolutely ruin any moment we're having,” the blond assured her with a laugh. “I can't believe you stubbornly waited months for this.”

Moving her hips slightly, Marinette raised her eyebrows. “Do I look like I would've slept with you without knowing your name?”

“Marinette, you didn't even know my name until just over a month ago,” he replied, dodging the question. “All because I refused to tell you when we barely knew each other.”

“We are not talking about your terrible work ethic right now,” she reprimanded, flicking his side lightly, “not while you're inside me.”

He looked at her innocently. “I'm sorry, I assumed we're taking a break to talk.”

“No.” And to prove her point, she pushed herself up and then sunk down onto his arousal with narrowed eyes, the forced glare only breaking when he flashed the dimpled grin that she was fond of.

With his hands supporting her hips, holding onto her and pushing her to meet his thrusts, she closed her eyes from the influx of pleasure. The sounds of their breaths were filling the room before long, as well as their slick skin connecting, audible to the both of them. She gulped and kept her hands on his chest to keep upright, almost falling over as he hit a bundle of nerves within her, the friction of his pelvis caressing her protrusion with each movement causing a lot of positive sensations.

Marinette moaned freely.

Their movements grew almost desperate, their breaths loud and erratic. Marinette's nails curled into his chest, leaving little half-moon shapes from the pressure, but all she could focus on was the building pleasure that was inside her.

With strangled breath she rested her head in the crook of his neck, her muscles clenching from the sudden reaction. She shivered, catching her breath slowly as he stilled, giving her the time to recover without jostling her. Wiping the sweaty hair from her forehead, Marinette mumbled into his neck, “What about you?”

A kiss was pressed into her hair. “I'm fine.”

Marinette carefully pulled herself off of him slowly, sitting down on the mattress as she reached for tissues to clean up. After his arousal was free, she pushed him back down onto the mattress, knowing that he'd be stubborn and insist that he was fine for the evening. Any protests that he'd started were interrupted when she kissed the tip of his member, her wrapping around the base and admiring the warmth once more.

With as much coordination as she could muster, she moved her hand in time with her mouth, gradually taking in more of his arousal as she went. The noises he produced were delightful, causing her heart to race from a mixture of excitement and pride, and she was aware more than ever of the dampness between her legs as she leaned over him.

To catch her breath, she pulled back, running her tongue along the length of him, licking the tip as her hand picked up the pace to replace the lost sensation. She cracked open her eyes to peer at him, seeing how his eyes were clenched shut, lips parted in silent pleasure at that moment.

When she engulfed him with her mouth again, he wasn't so quiet.

A strangled attempt at her name escaped him, alerting her that he was near his peak. She didn't pull away—instead, the hand caressing him tightened slightly, her mouth becoming sloppy and causing noises as she tried to breathe, not wanting to pull away again.

His arousal twitched and warmth spilled into her mouth. She hastily swallowed as he breathed out audibly, pressing a kiss to his member afterwards, smiling as he took in a gasp from the sensitivity.

When he'd regained his breath, no longer splayed against the mattress as he'd sat up beside her, the first thing he said to her was, “You didn't have to do that.”

She wiped at her damp lips before she grinned widely. “Consider it a thank you for sleeping with me tonight.”

”...I don't know which meaning I'm supposed to take there,” he murmured, looking at her dubiously.

Marinette reached out and ruffled his hair. “You'll never know, Adam.”

He groaned, pushing her hand away. “I'm never spooning you again.”

-x-

As his popularity as Félix continued to rise, Marinette was happy with her promotion, too. She was more involved with the magazine than she'd been before, no longer having to stay as late as she had some days, even given more possible vacation days. She took one of them to take Adrien to a lunch with her parents and uncle, all of which were entirely too amused when she introduced him as his real name. Although they didn't question it further than the shared glances, it was nice to see them interact.

Whenever Chloé met up with Adrien, she insisted for Marinette to come, too. It was as awkward as it had been previously at first, but the blonde-haired female was assertive in all the right ways, able to make Marinette loosen up in her presence within half an hour.

So, when Alya and Nino had moved back after almost two years of being away, Marinette had a large grin as she introduced their friends to each other. They hit off their friendships easily, and it turned out that Nino was casually dabbling in the game that Adrien played almost daily, though he wasn't interested in streams, so he didn't recognise Adrien as Félix.

Nino joined their gaming sessions occasionally—not while Adrien was streaming—while Alya and Chloé grew close, almost becoming inseparable as the months passed.

It was only a matter of time before Adrien's viewers were able to find out his personal account. Marinette had been careful and respected his privacy, not uploading pictures to her social media accounts with him in them, or even tagging him in posts. Although she still received messages from his fans, she didn't respond to them; the only time she spoke was either when she was featured on his stream, or there in the evenings, watching him play as she typed occasionally in the chat.

It was winter when she woke up a flood of notifications, sleepily reaching over to nudge Adrien's shoulder in an attempt to wake him up.

“Hey,” she called, voice thick from just waking up. “You might want to see this.”

One of the pictures Chloé had posted of their friend group had all of them tagged, including her and Adrien's personal account. The comments of his alternate name had appeared already, along with multiple follows and requests on his account when he blearily looked at the illuminated screen of this phone.

He wasn't panicked, though. Adrien sleepily glared at his phone before locking the screen, discarding it aside on the mattress before he relaxed into the pillows again, wrapping his arms around her and bringing her close into an embrace.

She easily complied, casting her own aside and moved to get comfortable.

Adrien muttered into her hair, “This doesn't mean I'll use a webcam.”


End file.
